


Hearts of Ash

by gaensebluemchen



Category: Tintenwelt-Trilogie | Inkheart Trilogy - Cornelia Funke
Genre: Basta is not nice, Canonical Character Death, Feelings of guilt, Gen, Major Character Injury, Manipulative Characters, Serious Injuries, most characters in this fic are not nice, you know where this will end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-09-24 06:03:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20353597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaensebluemchen/pseuds/gaensebluemchen
Summary: Capricorn had many men, and all of them were feared for their cold, cruel hearts. This is the story of one of them, the story of someone who might have been even worse than the others.





	1. Prologue: Fading Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've wanted to write this story for a long time, I started thinking about it serveral years ago. I love how Cornelia Funke manages to allude to a character's background story with a few well placed sentences, but at the same time, I would always like to know more... So here's my take on Basta's story.  
This is also partly to see if I can write anything longer than 2k or with more than three chapters ; )  
I'll add the characters to the tags as they appear in the fic, it always feels so weird to me to tag characters that haven't appeared yet...  
I don't own anything at all.

Seated between forests, mountains, between water and sky, the Castle in the Lake had seen a lot in the many years since its construction. It was familiar with both dreams and nightmares, and it also knew the very real monsters lurking inside and outside of its walls. Giants, man-eating fish, monsters that looked like men and men who acted like monsters... The Castle in the Lake had seen them all. But the one hiding in the shadows of its great walls right now was new. Once it had been a man – or maybe it had always been a monster, depending on who you might ask to judge that matter.

The night-mare kept to the dark corners and nooks where neither the sun nor the shine from the lit torches could reach it. Light hurt it and threatened to burn its coat of freezing, cruel darkness, so it prefered to lurk in places that where as dark as ink, as dark as its heart had once been. Now, the night-mare did no longer have a heart and did not remember the suffering it had caused. It did not have a brain either, to recall what loss felt like or to recollect all the times it had been hurt itself, long ago, in a forgotten life. However, the night-mare still had a name, and only one person knew it. A few syllables, and the night-mare had to obey the man with the pale face and hair. Its master had commanded it to watch the prisoner in the cage, so it did, although it did not want to and could not understand why. The only thing the night-mare still understood was pain, and darkness, and hunger.

And it was very hungry. The night-mare always longed for lives to consume. Its master had promised it new prey, but it never got enough. It wanted the girl in the cage, and the soldiers in their useless shells, and this man they all seemed to hunt, but its master had forbidden it to satisfy its hunger whenever it wanted. The night-mare growled in frustration. There was so much delicious life around it, and it was not allowed to take it.

While the night-mare's frustration grew stronger and stronger, soft footsteps approached the courtyard with the cages. The terrified girl that the night-mare was watching did not notice them yet, but the monster's sense of hearing was much better then hers. Carefully, it listened. Was this new prey?

The person stepped into sight. It was a man, and as he approached the huge cage, the torches flickered and the flames grew bigger, reacting to a few strange, whispered words. The night-mare watched him closely, but stayed hidden in the shadows, holding its panting breath as not to alarm its prey, and closed in on him. It let out a death-cold breath and appeared from the darkness. The girl saw it, the smell of her fear becoming stronger and sweeter. So tempting... The man however did not try to flee; instead, he whispered more of his strange words, until he was covered in flames. But his fire seemed intimidated by the night-mare's cold presence and died away. Without the flames, the night-mare could savour the man's scent much better than before. He was afraid. His fear smelled so much like that of the caged girl, sweet, tantalizing, and no one had ordered it to leave this man alone.

If the night-mare still had had lips, it would have licked them now.

But the man did not give up yet. He whispered his strange words again, and the fire returned, stronger and more vicious than before, and the night-mare backed away. Fire... It screamed, and suddenly, it felt something strange stir deep within its cold darkness. There was something about this flames... Something... But the night-mare did not remember what it was. The night-mare never remembered anything. It always existed in the moment, with no past and no future. Yet still... It reached a charcoal-black hand into the flames, extinguishing them as well as the faint ghost of the memory that had crept up into the last remnants of its consciousness.

The girl in the cage was crying. But her protector... Apparently, the man had seen something in the night-mare's inky black depths. He started to speak, and his voice was full of confidence.

"Well look!" he announced to the undead darkness, "Who have we here? Do you remember yourself in all your darkness? Do you remember the knife, and the boy's thin, unprotected back? Do you remember the sound my heart made when it broke?"

The man took a step forward. For a moment, hesitation crept into the night-mare's mouldy black form. Something was going wrong. This man was not prey. He was danger dressed in sparks.

If men were afraid of monsters, surely monsters would not have to be afraid of men? This one was.

The man spoke again now, and his words hit the night-mare in its core.

"Away with you, Basta! Be gone for all eternity!"

_Basta. _

The night-mare screamed in agony as the flames attacked it like furious vipers, their bite just as sharp and deadly.

_Basta._

His name was everywhere, burned right into his own darkness.

Bright, hot, consuming fire.

_Basta._

A name.

A memory.

A whole life, forgotten.

_Basta!_

Pain.

Hate.

Misery.

_Basta..._

Suddenly, he remembered it all. A life, his life, so clear it was almost painful, and agonizing in what it contained.

He remembered.

And then he was gone, just like that. The darkness disappeared and was no more.

Like an error that was finally corrected.


	2. The Things We Leave behind

Smoke. That was the first thing that Basta could remember as he thought about what to say about himself.

He was sitting in a dimly-lit inn somewhere at the edge of the Wayless Wood. The man sitting on the chair opposite of him had been a total stranger only a few hours ago, but now they were sitting here, sharing a meal and the warmth of the crammed tap room. At first, Basta had been wary of the black-clad man – their paths had crossed in the forest, and Basta had thought that he had been alone there, until he had heard leaves rustling, twigs breaking behind him. Soon, the noises had reached him, and turned out to be not a night-mare or a redcap or a ghost, but just a man. He had taken a moment to look at Basta, apparently confused about finding travel company so small, not to mention so alone, before he continued to walk in silence alongside the young boy.

His voice had been perfectly calm and conversational when he had suddenly spoken, after many steps between the lonely, dark trees.

"What's a boy like you doing here, all alone in the woods? Aren't you scared?"

"No," Basta had claimed, but his voice had sounded too high and quiet even in his own ears. He had been just too aware of how alone they had been.

"No?"

"I was a bit worried that the night-mares would find me..." Basta had admitted, his gaze lowered, head tucked between his shoulders. He had glanced left and right, searching for something or someone that could help him and finding only trees and empty air. No one would have heard a cry for help.

"Oh yes, night-mares are scary."

Night-mares were not the only horrifying, dangerous thing you could find in the forest. And not the only thing that could find _you_.

"I know you can keep them away with fire, but I had nothing to light one..."

And then, the stranger had raised an eyebrow.

"You're not afraid of fire? Not even a little bit?"

"Not at all."

The man had slowy cocked his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It had been the first time in weeks that someone had looked at Basta with warmth in their eyes.  
"My name's Fulvio. And I think you're exactly the kind of guy I was looking for."

Fulvio, as he had introduced himself, was working for someone called Capricorn. He had told Basta about his life and his work as they had walked through the woods and towards the inn where they were resting now. He seemed to be a bit of an outcast, but his story had sounded so exciting to Basta's ears.

And now, Fulvio wanted to know a little bit more about his young travel companion.

Basta thought about what to say and then remembered the thick, white clouds drifting through the trees, making you cough. He had always thought that they looked like the ghosts from his mother's tales.

"My father was a charcoal burner," he then said.

"No wonder you weren't afraid in the forest," Fulvio smiled, "It's your home, huh?"

Basta returned the smile for a second before looking down on the table again. Home – that had been a shabby hut, an unsightly little thing in the Wayless Wood, similar to many other little houses scattered throughout the forest. Basta, his parents, an uncle, and his ancient grandmother – they had been only a small family, but their little home had still been crowded.

"He's dead," Basta answered quietly.

He could barely recall his father's face, always smeared with black. But he did remember how proud he had been of his trade. After all, every forge in Lombrica and Argenta depended on charcoal. His work had been important, even if no one wanted to do it, even if many people mocked the dirty forest-men who produced the black gold of the Wayless Wood. And he had always been so happy at the thought that one day, his son would follow in his footsteps. He had taught him what good charcoal sounded like when you knocked the pieces together, had warned him not to anger the forest spirits that lived in the trees, and he had shown him how to make amulets to protect himself from bad luck. Basta had always listened carefully to those lessons, always eager to please his father, even if the smoke from the wood piles had stung in his eyes and throat. Basta had wondered if he would ever get used to it. But one day, it had not just been the smoke that made his father cough, and after his father, his grandmother started coughing, too.

And then began the whispering, the voices of the White Women, and Basta was sure that he could never forget _that_.

"I'm sorry," Fulvio's voice was a soft mumur, "That must have been hard for you."

"Well, my mother married again, so that I would have another father. But..." he trailed off, unsure what to say.

_You have to be grateful to me_, his step-father had told him.

_Don't talk badly about Ugo_, his mother had told him.

"You didn't like him?" Fulvio asked, a smile on his lips and in his eyes.

Basta looked at him again. The man's voice had been calm, soft. It did not carry any of the accusations that Basta was so used to hearing in adult people's voices whenever they were talking to him. He seemed trustworthy, Basta decided to his own surprise.

"No," he admitted.

"Why?"

"He's mean," Basta explained. He still remembered the day Ugo had slapped him in the face because Basta had left a bowl of milk on the window sill – for the fairies. He liked watching them in the evening, when they started to glow like little stars, but warmer and not so distant.

His step-father did not care about fairies or stars. Basta was not sure if he cared about his step-son. Basta was too slow and too weak and too clumsy to help in the kitchen of Ugo's inn in the outskirts of Ombra, so he was probably too useless to be loved.

And Basta was not very fond of Ugo either. The man was loud and violent and always smelled of alcohol in the evening. Besides, he already had his own son, little Renzo, who was too young to do much and therefore did little wrong.

Fulvio spoke again and distracted Basta from his gloomy memories.

"Is that why you ran away? Because he's mean?"

"No..." Basta squirmed a little on his chair and picked at his sleeve.

Fulvio cocked his head.

"Are you sure he won't miss you, though? And what about your mother?"

"No... They'll be happy. If they even notice I'm gone, that is."

Now Fulvio raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Basta felt his cheeks turn hot. His face was probably turning bright red right now. Should he tell him? But what if Fulvio would not like him anymore if he knew? What if he would turn away in disgust, like the other adults? Would he yell at him? Hit him?

"Hey," Fulvio said quietly, "You can tell me. Trust me."

He looked sincere.

Basta nodded, and swallowed, and took a deep breath. He did not dare to look at Fulvio as he stammered an explanation.

"I... I killed my brother."


	3. A Different Kind of Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, but the first part of this chapter is about a kid dying. It's nothing graphic, but it's there, so feel free to skip it.

The words seemed to hang in the air for a few moments. It was the first time that Basta admitted it to someone out loud. To someone who did not already know.

Fulvio blinked slowly. He seemed surprised, and his brow was furrowed as if he was thinking about something, his dark eyes fixed on something only he could see. But at least he was not yelling yet.

"Well," he said, still calm and friendly, "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"I... I'm..."

Basta's throat felt too tight and narrow for his voice. He took another deep breath to steady himself.

"I'm not sure what happened."

Basta still remembered that it was a hot, sunny day. And he had watched something in the sky, a little bird...

Fulvio was silent, waiting for Basta to continue.

"We were playing, Renzo and I. I... They wanted me to watch him."

Basta had to swallow down a knot in his throat. His eyes were stinging.

"We were outside, where we wouldn't bother someone..."

He could still see Renzo's happy, laughing face before him when he closed his eyes.

"I heard something and – I think I called him, but... I think someone pushed me. But Renzo, he... He..." Basta's voice died away again.

Fulvio reached over the table and touched Basta's hand.

"Yes?"

"He got run over by a cart," Basta whispered, his eyes wide. "I should have watched out."

He remembered his mother's cry. How their neighbors had gathered around them. People shouting, talking, whispering. And how small and broken his little brother had looked.

"It was my fault."

Ugo had cried, too. And then he had seen Basta standing at the side of the street. Useless, irresponsible Basta, who got away completely unscathed.

Basta had never seen his step-father so angry.

It was weird, but Basta could not remember feeling any pain. He had been so numb...

Fulvio was nodding slowly.

"So that's why you ran away?"

"Yes."

His mother sobbing at night.

His step-father, so angry, grieving because the wrong son had died.

The neighbors. They all knew what had happened. What had happened _because of him_. What _he had done_. And they made sure that he would know too, as if he could ever forget it.

"Well," Fulvio said slowly, "I think Capricorn wouldn't mind. If you want to, you can come with me."

Basta cocked his head and looked up at Fulvio.

"You... would really do this for me?"

Fulvio smiled.

"I told you that there's all kinds of outcast people working for Capricorn."

He leaned towards Basta and whipered, "People like us have to stick together, don't you think?"

Basta nodded, and Fulvio winked at him.

* * *

Early the next morning, they continued their journey, and for the first time in months, Basta had an actual goal to look forward to. A fresh start, meeting people who did not know anything about him, who would not blame him for anything... 

It almost surprised him, but he was happy. 

All the way to their destination, Basta had wondered what the place would look like. He had seen a lot of different buildings in Ombra, but none of them had prepared him for the structure that awaited him deep in the Wayless Wood. At first, he had only seen a few grey stones between dark pine trees, grey stones that soon became walls, became parapets, a tower, a gate.

It was a fortress.

Not as big as the Castle of Ombra, but still far bigger than what Basta had imagined. Men were stationed at the battlements, dressed in black like Fulvio. Maids in red dresses were doing their duties, carrying buckets of water or big baskets.

"This – This is where you live?" Basta asked breathlessly as he gazed around, trying to take everything in.

Fulvio chuckled.

"Yes, this is Capricorn's fortress."

"He must be rich!" Rich and powerful. And someone like that would really want someone like Basta to work for him?

"Hhm, I think so," Fulvio said, his voice vibrating with amusement as he looked at the boy's huge eyes and slightly open mouth.

"Impressed?"

Basta felt the laughter rise in his own throat as he looked around again.

"_Yes_," he said and lengthened the word, "Yes, I am. This is so huge! I used to live in a house that had only one room!"

Fulvio smiled and lead him into the fortress. Basta tried to memorize the hallways they passed but was soon lost. He had never been inside a building with so many corridors and stairways. Fulvio however seemed to know exactly where they were going, leading Basta confidently through the maze of grey stone walls. Finally, he stopped in front of a door, and knocked.

He opened the door, and Basta almost gasped.

The man who had waited for them inside was tall and as pale as a winter day. His pallor was heightened by his fine, red clothing, the fabric thick and soft-looking. A golden ring adorned his elegant fingers. He looked like a prince, like the hero from one of the fairytales Basta's mother used to tell him.

Fulvio bowed to the man and wanted to urge Basta to do the same, but the boy was already bowing.

And Capricorn smiled, a smile that never reached his eyes but already froze on his lips.

"A new apprentice?" he asked, his deep voice hung thick and rich in the air.

"Yes," Fulvio replied, "His name is Basta. I met him in the Wayless Wood."

"I see." Capricorn said and came closer, studying Basta with strikingly silver eyes. He lightly touched Basta's chin and carefully lifted his face to get an even better look at the boy, and Basta looked up at him. Capricorn was tall.

"Yes, I think he has potential. Find someone to show him where he can sleep and get new clothes, and then I want to hear your report."

Basta was dismissed, but he felt pride rise in his chest. Capricorn though he had potential! He had looked at him and thought he could be of use, had not seen him as a clumsy burden!

Fulvio shooed him out of the room, looked at one of the guards at the door, and introduced him to one of them. His name was Flatnose, he was maybe a few years older than Basta, but much taller and broader. He was not very pretty, but he seemed glad to get another task than standing guard in an empty corridor.

Flatnose showed him around, and Basta felt almost dizzy because the fortress was so big. They finally arrived at a room that was filled with the busy back and forth of several maids.

"Hey, Isabella! Hey!"

The maid in question turned around and looked at Flatnose.

"I need some clothes. Something that's small enough for him," and he nudged Basta in the ribs. It was probably supposed to be a friendly gesture, but it sent him staggering.

Isabella took a look at Basta, then she turned around and looked through some chests. The clothes she handed him then were deep black, plain but well-made.

He and Flatnose wanted to leave, but as they turned around, a woman was standing in the doorway, older than the other maids. Her unblinking gaze was unsettling.

"Who's that?" she wanted to know as the boys stepped aside to let her pass. Her voice sounded as if she had just found some unpleasant critter on her plate.

"New apprentice," Flatnose explained.

"Bit small, I think," she answered, not impressed, as the boys hurried out of the door.

"That was Mortola," Flatnose told Basta in a quiet voice after they had brought some distance between them and the woman. "She's in charge of the maids and she hates when you keep them from working, so try not to let her catch you chatting with the girls."

"Why?"

"Just don't get on her bad side. Oh look, there's some of the other guys!"

He was introduced to more people, until he could barely kept their names and faces apart. Basta could not remember ever knowing so many different people. They nodded and greeted him as he told them his name and where he came from, and continued their conversation, something about getting into a fight with someone. Basta noticed that all the other boys were armed. Knives, daggers, the oldest one (What was his name? Something like an animal...) even had a sword. Basta eyed the weapon. If he had something like this, he could keep people like his step-father away from him.

He could keep anyone away from him.

They kept talking for a while, until it was time for dinner. The night came fast between the dark trees, and as the light fled the forest, dangerous things came out of their hiding places. But Basta did not notice. He was lying underneath a blanket, in a bed he shared with two other boys for warmth, and for the first time in weeks, he felt safe and content.


	4. A New Beginning

As he lay sleeping that night, he dreamt of one of the big, spotted cats that live in the Wayless Wood. They were both walking through the forest, and Basta was not afraid of the wild animal. Suddenly, the cat turned around and looked at him.

"You can still run away, you know?" the animal said with a human voice, and Basta woke up in confusion.

Sunlight was already creeping through the window, grey and not very warm, but Basta smiled, already forgetting the weird dream.

It was his first day in Capricorn's service! He jumped out of his bed and got ready for the day, while the other boys in his room were waking up much more slowly, not sharing his enthusiasm.

After breakfast, everyone awaited their orders for the day. Capricorn had his own throne room, or at least that was how Cockerell, one of the other boys, had described it to Basta. In there, Capricorn talked to his men, told them who owed him money, who needed a bit of persuasion to pay their debts, and who needed to be punished more severely.

"What do you do if someone doesn't pay?" Basta wanted to know.

"Burn down their house," Flatnose answered with bright, glittering eyes.

"Isn't that a bit extreme?" He knew that Ugo sometimes had to take away a customer's stuff when they had no money to pay their drinks, before he threw them out of his inn. Then again, those people probably did not have houses to lose anymore.

Cockerell smiled down on him. He was taller and a little older than Basta and clearly pleased by that fact.

"It's the only thing that works. It makes the other people afraid of us, and if they're afraid, they'll pay. If they pay, they don't have to be afraid. Simple."

He wanted to ask another question, but a third boy ellbowed him in the side.

"Shut up, runt!"

Basta ducked his head, but to his surprise, Cockerell raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"Think you're special now because you're no longer the smallest, Fabio?"

Apparently, Cockerell liked arguing. Fabio rolled his eyes, but before he could say something, the door opened and the men came out of Capricorn's throne room. The younger recruits got their orders not directly from Capricorn, but from the older men.

Basta ended up standing guard on the battlements of the fortress, next to a very silent man. Basta could see the crowns of the huge, ancient trees, things moving almost unseen between them, but since nothing too interesting happened, he would have liked to make a little conversation. The man did not. Basta tried, but soon lost hope, so he watched the shadows moving between the trees and the sun slowly making its way across the sky. When their guard duty was finally over, the man nodded in Basta's direction and walked off. Basta was still looking at the man's back when suddenly Flatnose called him.

"Want to see something interesting?"

Basta nodded, he had nothing to do right now and was glad that at last someone was talking to him again. Flatnose lead him out of the main gate, where Cockerell was already waiting for them, and together they walked into the Wayless Wood. They took a small path, the leaves forming a green roof above their heads. Insects and the occasional fairy were buzzing through the air, small rays of sunlight fell through the twigs and branches. It was around midday, and the forest seemed surprisingly peaceful.

Suddenly, Cockerell stopped in his tracks. Basta almost bumped into him. They had reached the edge of a small clearing. The stinging, familiar smell of burning wood reached Basta, and against his own will, he took a deep breath.

"What's that?" Cockerell asked and eyed several smoking hills.

"That's for making charcoal!" Basta answered enthusiastically, "First you stack the wood and then you have to watch out that it does not start actually burning. Making good charcoal is really hard. Did you know that you can chew charcoal to clean your teeth?"

Cockerell raised an eyebrow and interrupted Basta's excited chatter.

"You're crazy," he stated matter-of-factly.

"The charcoal-burner has to be somewhere near. You can't leave the stacks unattended," Basta continued.

Flatnose rolled his eyes. "Why didn't you say that earlier?"

"Is that important?"

"I just don't want to run into one of them. You hear all kinds of weird stuff about them... Anyway, we still have to walk a bit."

They left the clearing again and kept walking. After a while, Basta heard a faint, angry-sounding buzzing. He cocked his head and strained his ears. They were moving towards the source of the buzzing. He looked up at Flatnose, brows furrowed and a question already on his lips, but Flatnose just winked at him and signalled him to keep walking. They reached another clearing, bigger than the other. A single tree stood in the centre. Between the dark green leaves were nests that looked almost like hornets' nests. But the small beings moving around the twigs and branches were not insects. From the distance, they looked like fairies, but they were orange, and they seemed more aggressive than mischievous.

One of the little creatures moved closer to them, buzzing around their heads. Basta reached out a hand, and immediately yanked it back. Whatever it was, it was very hot. Where he had touched the small creature, his skin was turning red.

Cockerell laughed.

"Those are fire elves. Don't touch them!"

Basta stuck out his tongue at him and Cockerell laughed harder.

"I think they're interesting! More interesting than the boring stuff they want us to do in the fort. Don't you like them?" Flatnose said, "They are much better than the boring blue fairies. But we shouldn't go closer to their tree or they'll attack us."

"Yeah, Basta, watch out!" Cockerell was still giggling when they decided to go back to the fortress.

* * *

When he finally reached the bedroom in the evening, Basta was pretty sure that he could feel every muscle in his body – because every single one was hurting in exhaustion. Before dinner, Fulvio had met him in the courtyard and told him that he would teach him how to fight. After countless repetitions of the same movements – attack, evade, attack again – Basta was not sure if he would ever be able to rise his arms again. At least, Fulvio had let him use his left hand, much stronger and faster than his right one. His stepfather, in contrast, had always insisted he should use his right hand. Being left-handed, Ugo was sure, was unnatural and a sign of the devil. Fulvio however had just smiled and had told him that he would teach him how to fight with both hands, anyway. After their training, as Basta had been trying to catch his panting breath, blood hot and face flushed, sweat trickling into his eyes, Fulvio had clapped him on the shoulder.

"Well done," he had said and smiled. Basta had smiled, too, a warm, fluttering feeling spreading in his chest. He had wanted to give Fulvio the knife back, but the man had declined.

"Keep it. Capricorn said you should have it, so it's yours now."

Now, Basta was sitting on the edge of his side of the bed and turned the knife around. It still needed a name – any fool knew that an unnamed blade would turn against its owner. But Basta was not sure which name to pick for his first knife. It had to be something special.

"Flatnose?" he asked the older boy, "I want to give my knife a name. Do you have any ideas?"

Flatnose looked at Basta, looked at the weapon and back to Basta, and finally – shrugged.

"It's just as tiny as you are. What about 'Basta No. 2'?" he suggested with a dismissive wave of his hand, "Or maybe 'Stabby'?"

Basta just gave him a blank stare in return. Why had he even asked?

Absentmindedly, he placed a fingertip on the cool metal surface, watched his blurred reflection on the blade and how the light caught on the sharp edge. It was indeed a small and light weapon, but it could certainly cause damage. 

Basta smiled. Splinter. Yes, that sounded nice. A splinter might not be as dangerous as a sword, but it would hurt. And Basta's knife was bigger than a splinter. Flatnose should not underestimate it like that. 

He looked to where Flatnose was lying, but he was already snoring.

Basta shrugged, before he carefully stroked the hilt of his knife and put it underneath his corner of the pillow. 

* * *

The next days and weeks brought the comfortable routine of every-day life with them. He spent his time standing guard inside and around the fortress, and became familiar with the maze-like hallways, or he was running errands, helping the older men fulfill their duties. He continued training with Fulvio, and he let Flatnose teach him how to start a small fire (Flatnose loved fire, sometimes a little bit too much for Basta's taste).

That was why Basta noticed immediately that something was about to happen when the maids were suddenly more busy than usual, cleaning tapestries that Basta had not seen before, while Mortola kept a watchful eye on them. The men seemed to be excited, laughing and talking loudly, and Basta found out why everyone was behaving in such a peculiar manner.

They were expecting guests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I ever mention how much I relate to Fenoglio? Because I swear this story has its own will and keeps getting longer. Originally, I had planned more time jumps. Sorry for the filler chapter, but this is the first time I write a longer story where I have to do some worldbuilding, so it's a new experience for me^^ I think the next chapter will be more interesting. But I'm not sure if I can update on time, because I also have to write an essay for university : /


	5. Guests from Outside of the Forest

The visitors arrived at noon one day in early autumn. The air was fresh and misty, with a vague promise of rain, as Basta leaned out of a window a little farther to get a better look at the guests. He and a few other boys watched their arrival from inside the fortress. It had been cleaned from the roofs to the dungeons, tapestries were hanging on the grey stone walls, and the maids had prepared a feast in honour of their guests. The men would celebrate this evening. Basta had guessed that their guests were important somehow, but he still sucked in air in surprise when he saw the snake banner that one of the soldiers carried. He had never been to the other side of the Wayless Wood, but he still recognized that banner, remembered it from half-whispered tales and warnings.

A viper.

He eyed the men with suspicion. A few soldiers, one exquisitely dressed man to command them. He was much older than Capricorn, but shorter and not quite as impressive as he dismounted his horse to greet Capricorn.

"That's the Adderhead's herald!" Firefox hissed exicitedly next to Basta.

"What's he doing here?" someone asked.

"Business with the boss, I think. Sometimes the Adder's men stop here when they're on their way to Ombra or something," Firefox said. He was one of the older boys and had been in Capricorn's service for some years already, so he usually knew best what was going on.

Basta was curious what kind of business the Adder's herald would have to do with Capricorn. As far as he knew, the Adderhead was a powerful ruler. He had an army. Of course, Capricorn also had power and men, but surely not to the same extent as the Prince of Silver?

Pondering that question, Basta remembered what Cockerell had told him a few days ago. They had accompanied a few maids to help them carry the things they bought in Ombra, and he had noticed how the other people in the streets had looked at them. And suddenly, his black cloak had weighted much heavier.

"They hate us because we're powerful," Cockerell had explained.

Maybe powerful people just had to stick together, if everyone else hated them. Basta could still feel the nasty looks of Ombra's people like mould on his skin. He wondered if someone had told Ugo and his mother that their surviving son was now wearing the black of Capricorn's men. Would they even care? He felt his heart ache and suddenly wished his mother would embrace him. Basta bit his lip and tried to think of something else. 

* * *

The feast began in the evening, while the sun was slowly disappearing behind the trees. Everyone was gathered outside, in the court yard. It was already getting quite cold at night, but Basta's black cloak kept him warm. Torches were lit, painting the grey stone walls orange. Men were singing, drinking, gambling, some had maids sitting on their laps. Their cheering became even louder as three prisoners were led from the dungeons into the open and only subsided when Capricorn started speaking.

"Look!" he addressed the gathered crowd, "This is what happens to anyone foolish enough to try to resist me... Or betray me..." His naturally dark voice became even darker.

While Capricorn talked about loyalty and treachery, Basta looked at the men and wondered what exactly they had done. One of them was wearing black, Basta noticed and felt a spark of anger in his chest, one had more colourful clothes, the third one's rags were so dirty that Basta could not tell any more what they used to look like. What did they have in common, except for their approaching death?

Basta had assumed the men would be hanged – he had of course seen the gallows, although he did his best to stay as far away from them as possible. But the men were not led there, they were left standing in the middle of the court yard, surrounded by the stone walls of Capricorn's fortress and his equally unyielding men. Basta looked at Capricorn to find out what would happen, and he saw his elegant lips move without a sound. He made a gesture with his hand, and Basta felt something change in the air.

Silence suddenly lay over the fortress. Nothing moved or made a sound. The men stopped talking and laughing. Even the sounds of the forest died away.

Basta was sure his hair was standing on end.

Something was rising from the ground, silent, oppressive, grey like ashes or the sick pallor of the dying.

It stank of sulphur, and Basta felt his breath hitch in his throat.

It was still rising, formed arms and hands. Eyes opened, red like embers, gaze fixed on Capricorn.

His master was smiling. With a slow but fluid gesture, he pointed at the prisoners.

"Feast!"

Capricorn's voice was not loud, it was not even harsh, but in the unnatural silence, it felt like the cracking of thunder.

The Thing, whatever it was, turned towards the three men, frightened and frozen to their spot. As the Thing's glowing eyes met theirs, one of them awoke from his trance, and bolted.

He did not make it very far.

Grey fingers reached him, curled around him like clouds of smoke. He stopped, and for a heartbeat, nothing seemed to happen. His eyes were so wide open that Basta could see all the white of them. Then the man's skin turned grey, and Basta gasped in horror as he fell apart, crumbled to nothing but dust.

No, not dust.

Flakes of ash.

Ice-cold fear clawed at Basta's stomach as he realized that this Thing, this nightmarish abomination, must have burned the man from the inside.

A blink of an eye later, the screaming began.

And stopped.

Stopped abruptly, because the Thing was fast. Its fingers, even its breath was deadly, and left behind nothing but ashes in the place where the doomed men had stood only moments ago. Only ashes.

And Capricorn's men cheered and applauded, but only after Capricorn had waved his hand with an almost bored expression on his face, commanding the Thing to sink into the ground again. Basta still looked at the spot where it had disappeared, not trusting the evidence of his own eyes, but the air seemed breathable again, the tension had faded away, and he could relax a little.

He had seen executions before, but never something like this. Never a demonstration of this kind of power. He was very glad to be on Capricorn's good side. Everyone else was too, he assumed.

Basta looked back at Capricorn, and found his silver-bright gaze resting on him. Maybe it was a trick of the light, an illusion of the flickering torches, but Basta thought he saw Capricorn smile at him for a moment.

And although he had just witnessed the man's immense power and still felt the fear in his heart, he found himself returning the smile.


	6. Mistakes and Punishments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence against kids. It's off-screen, tho.

Basta knew that he was in a lot of trouble. He was standing in front of Capricorn, head tucked between his shoulders, gaze fixed on the floor beneath his boots, and tried to fight down the urge to run and hide. The left side of his ribcage hurt with every breath he took and he still had a coppery taste in his mouth, but he tried to ignore the pain for now.

Capricorn before him was silent, a statue of quiet fury. Basta could not bear the silence any longer.

"I am sorry," he whispered, wincing at the pain in his split lip.

Capricorn just looked down at him, brows furrowed above eyes like tarnished silver.

"What exactly did you think you were doing?" he demanded to know, and Basta tried to make himself even smaller.

If he was completly honest with himself, Basta had not really thought about anything when he had attacked Fabio. He had just felt the anger boil inside himself and had given into his urge to punch the other boy right in his annoying face.

In the three years that Basta had been in Capricorn's service by now, he and Fabio had become rivals, both of them young and eager, but it had never escalated like this. It had started with their usual snide remarks and insults, but today, Basta had finally snapped and had lashed out at him. It had ended with Basta trying to tear out Fabio's throat with his teeth, Fabio trying to break Basta's ribs, and an enraged Fulvio finally separating them.

Capricorn made Basta give him a detailed report of what had happened exactly. There had been very few times in Basta's life where he had felt so ashamed as he did now.

"I will not tolerate you attacking my other men. And if you want to act like a rabid dog, I will treat you like one, do you understand?" Capricorn's voice was cold and sharp like a shard of ice.

"Yes," Basta said, his throat dry and constricted.

"Good. Next time you and Fabio have a problem, I expect that you settle the issue in a more discreet manner."

Capricorn sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was so different. Calm. Collected. Almost friendly.

"Oh, Basta. You have no idea how much I love you and all the others. You are like sons to me, and I'd hate to see you fight again."

Basta audibly gulped down the knot in his throat.

"You see, it's a father's duty to punish his children to stop them from committing more mistakes and getting in real trouble. You have to trust me, Basta. I know what's best for you. Just trust me, do what I say, and I won't have to have you beaten again. It's entirely up to you."

Capricorn moved to the door and was already touching the handle when he turned around to face Basta again.

"I really hope that you won't disappoint me again. I don't _want_ to hurt you – you're one of my favourites. Although I'm no longer sure if you deserve that."

He opened the door, and Basta was dismissed.

Being slapped in public was bad, and the shame of having failed Capricorn was even worse. Fabio was punished too, but since Basta had been the one to turn their argument violent, he also had to help in the kitchens as further punishment. And kitchen duty was not only humiliating, it was also boring. The maids did not want to talk with him, and Mortola was always keeping an eye on them. Basta kept his head down whenever he felt her stern eyes on him, concentrated on a particularly mud-caked root. He cursed under his breath – whatever those things were, they were sticky, and made his hands dirty. His fingers had dark stains on them. He really detested those roots.

"Say," he asked the maid next to him, after Mortola had moved on to loom somewhere else, "Why exactly-"

"Shh! I don't want to get in trouble because of you!"

"But-"

"Just be quiet," she whispered, "And could you maybe not breathe directly into my face?"

"What?" Basta was confused now.

"Your breath stinks. And shut up now!" the maid urged between clenched teeth.

Basta rolled his eyes, but kept his mouth shut for the rest of his kitchen duty.

It was later in the evening when he sneaked around in one of the small gardens Mortola kept. Against his own will, he had been thinking about the maid's comment. Basta did not like being dirty or smelling bad – his stepfather' clothes had always had stains on them and they had smelled of sweat from all the heavy work an inn-keeper had to do. And his father and uncle had always been smeared with soot. Even though he had loved his father, Basta wanted to leave his old live behind. He knew what the other boys and men thought about charcoal burners. He had heard their sneers and comments, and slowly, the shame had seeped into him. Ever since he started to live in Capricorn's fortress, he had been meticulous about staying clean.

He had finally found what he had searched in the garden – dark green leaves, small blue flowers, and a distinct scent – when someone behind him made a coughing sound.

Basta leaped up and turned around.

It was Flatnose. For someone of his size, the boy could be surprisingly sneaky. Flatnose watched him with furrowed brows.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" Basta tried to sound as if had not just been caught pilfering plants, "I just wanted to get some mint."

"And you decided to steal it from Mortola? Are you insane?" he asked, voice incredulous, "Or do you want to get punished again?"

Basta rolled his eyes.

"No," he growled, "I just don't want my breath to smell like yours!"

"Because of a girl, huh?" Flatnose laughed.

Basta cocked his head and stared at him.

"What? Why do you...?" he asked, trailed off, shook his head.

"Come on, you can tell me!" Flatnose said and cordially slapped Basta's shoulder. The sudden impact almost caused Basta to drop his leaves.

"Yeah, I guess..." he grumbled and rubbed his shoulder. Maybe it was better to just let Flatnose believe what he wanted. And after all, Basta was not actually lying to him. He simply did not want to tell him the truth.

Basta had not expected Flatnose to tell everyone about the girl he was allegedly seeing, but he could tell from the way the others looked at him the next morning that that was exactly what had happened. Basta was evading all questions, which finally led Cockerell to the conclusion that Basta had had his heart broken by the mistery girl.

Basta felt like crawling into his bed, and hiding underneath a blanket, never to be seen again. A few weeks later, he was mercifully put out of his misery by the next scandal, but still... He liked getting attention, but not when people were talking about him rather than talking with him.

He was still a little disgruntled when he was visiting Ombra again a few weeks later. Fulvio had taken him and a younger boy, Sandro, with him to acompany him. They had been sitting in a run-down tavern for most part of the day, talking with people who were interested in some of the services Capricorn could offer them. It was boring, but Fulvio had said they had to learn how to negotiate with potential clients.

It was afternoon when they finally left the inn again. Fulvio wanted to go home, but Sandro was tucking at his sleeve.

"Can we stay a little, please? There's performers on the market! Please, can we watch?" Sandro looked up at Fulvio, and Basta had to admit that the younger boy was far better at making puppy eyes than he was. Fulvio looked at his two young companions, and sighed, but he could not hide the smile on his lips.

"Fine," he said, "But we won't stay too long!"

The town square was crowded, as it usually was, but they still found some good places to watch. There were a few actors, but Basta thought the man throwing knives was more interesting. But no one could compete with the performer that was juggling burning torches and breathing fire. The flames rose high into the air, and Basta was so fascinated that he barely noticed anything else. A fairy, grey from the human food the little things liked to steal, tried to get some of his hair, but he just shooed it away with a lazy gesture, too distracted to really care. The firebreather had an apprentice standing next to him, a boy a few years older than Basta. He was almost as good as his master already.

Sandro and Basta stood there, watching, until Fulvio finally managed to get them to return home.

Basta dreamt of the flying sparks that night, flames that elicited shouts of wonder, not of fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but I still have that essay to write and the thing has a deadline : / The next chapter will probably be on time, tho, because it's already half-way written : )  
As for the thing about the mint - I felt like there was already enough misery in my fic, considering the chapters before and after this one. So I simply hope whatever rumour Dustfinger heard was not quite true. There will be enough oportunities for Basta to be horrible in later chapters, tho.


	7. Fire!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for severe injuries, more specifically for burns. Never screw around with fire, please.

Basta kept learning during the next years, learned what he needed to know. He knew how to start a fire and how to keep it burning. He knew how to use his knife and a sword. He knew that the strong made the rules, and that it was better to be the one making the rules than to be the one to follow them. He grew – but not very much, as Fabio liked to point out. Still, he was almost a young man now, and today, he had a test to pass.

He did not know much about the man who had wronged Capricorn, except that he was a fool to anger him. But he did know that his house would burn.

He was one of the more lucky ones, too. Capricorn wanted to spare his life and that of his daughter. And Capricorn wanted Basta to lay the fire – the first one that he would start on his own. So far, he had only watched. The first time had been hard – Basta had not been able to forget the shouting and crying. Covering his ears did not help if the screaming was inside his head. He had talked to Fulvio about it. He had told him that Capricorn had his reasons, and that Basta should not question Capricorn's orders. Besides, he was only doing his duty, wasn't he? It was not his fault those people had trouble with Capricorn, so why should he lose sleep about their fates?

After while, he had somehow gotten used to it. Still, this was different. He was nervous. Fulvio was standing next to him, watching him, judging how well he would do his job. Basta took a deep breath. He would prove himself. Prove his worth to Capricorn.

He never really understood what happened exactly. Everything was according to plan – that was, until Basta felt the heat and pain and realized that his right sleeve had caught on fire. He still remembered his panic, fear that was almost as cold as the flames were hot. He tried to put the fire out, beating on his arm again and again, but it did not help. On the contrary – the fire spread to his other sleeve as well. He screached in agony as the flames sank vicious teeth into his skin. He breathed in smoke and the stench of his own burning flesh, filling his lungs with fire. The pain and fear took over him and prevented any thought, but he was still certain of one thing.

He would die.

It was only because Fulvio stayed calm enough to rip the burning fabric off of his protegé that he did not. The flames disappeared, but the anguish did not.

Someone (Fulvio? Flatnose? Basta could not tell through the haze of agony.) dragged him back home. Basta did not remember much of it as he lost consciousness several times. During the moments when he was awake, he could do nothing to surpress the tears falling from his eyes, or the whimpers that escaped from his throat that was still sore from the smoke and his screaming. The pain... It was too much. When they finally reached the Magpie's realm, everything went black.

He did not know how much time passed. He was awake or unconcious; far, far away or hyperaware of details; and he was not always sure if the things he saw and heard were real or a fever dream.

A spider was crawling over the ceiling. Basta could see every hair on its long legs. A fly perished in its web.

_"I really don't think he'll make it. The wounds are too deep and big, and inflamed. Waste of time and resources to be honest." _

_"No. He can't die, I still need him." _

There was a spotted forest cat in the room, circling him. Basta wondered why no one did something against it. He moved his head, but he was so slow that it was gone before he could get a better look at it.

_"You have enough other men." _

_"I want this one. If I wanted his heart on a silver plate, he would cut it out of his own chest and offer it to me with a smile." _

_"Why don't you just pick another dirty boy up from the streets? There's plenty of them. Maybe you can even find one that is clever enough not to set himself on fire." _

Who was in the room with him? _What_ was in the room with him?

_"No, Mortola. You'll do everything in your power to save this one. You understand?" _

_"... Yes." _

He could smell herbs, their unfamiliar, strong scents strangely calming. Someone was quietly humming a melody.

When he had been a boy, his mother had told him stories about witches. Horrifying women with nails and teeth of iron, who conjured up catastrophies, brewed potions, and slaughtered children. He thought of these tales, or was he dreaming about them? He could not tell.

The only thing that was real was the agony.

The next time he woke up, Basta felt better. The fog in his head was gone, but that only made the pain in his arms clearer.

Basta squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again, Mortola was standing in front of him, another maid at her side.

"I have to change your bandages," she said.

Basta blinked. His torso was bare, but his arms resting on his blanket were covered by white fabric. Mortola moved one of his arms, and Basta hissed through gritted teeth.

After the bandage had come off, Basta hesitatingly took a look at his bare arm. With a sharp inhale, he flinched away.

The fire had licked away a lot of his skin. The patches that were still left were bright red and blistered and hurt. Liquid was oozing out of his wounds.

Basta tried hard not vomit. He knew that he was lucky he was still alive.

He also knew that he would be permanently disfigured from now on. 

Basta turned his head away and closed his eyes. He did not want to look at that anymore. He did not want anyone to see the tears in his eyes either.

His wounds took their time to heal. He had to be careful not to reopen them by moving too much. Basta spend days and nights staring at the ceiling, kept awake by the pain. He could hear the birds sing outside of his window, and wished that he could leave this room.

Flatnose came to visit him once. It was the day after Mortola had decided that Basta no longer needed bandages around his arms. The skin was red and twisted, and too tight around his bones. It was covered by a thick layer of a salve that smelled faintly of herbs and honey. Flatnose took a long, curious look at the injuries.

"That doesn't look too bad," he said slowly, "Does it hurt a lot?"

"Yes," Basta rasped, "It does."

He cleared his throat. Ever since the fire, his voice was kind of scratchy. He was not sure if his throat was still sore from his screaming, or if it was because he had breathed in so much smoke. Or maybe it was because he had spoken so little, with only Mortola for company. She was not very good company.

"Can't Mortola give you something for the pain?"

"She does. It doesn't help much, though."

"Oh."

They did not talk much afterwards. Flatnose was not very good company either. 

* * *

Basta's recovery was slow, but steady. The scars on his body healed during the next weeks, but they left him damaged. At first, he had not noticed, had been careful not to move his arms too much so he would not reopen his wounds. They had taken long enough to close. But after a while, he noticed that he could no longer full bend or extend his right arm. Mortola shrugged and said he would never be able to. The twisted tissue of his burnt skin was too thick and taunt, and hindered his movements.

But at least, those scars healed.

The ones on his soul not so much.

No matter if it was the torches or the flicker of a candle, a single look at a dancing flame inevitably brought back the biting pain, the smell of his own melting skin. His throat constricted, as if he was choking on invisible smoke, and the phantom flame that engulfed him made him blind for his surroundings.

Mortola said he was too weak.

She said he should man up, and at least try to be of some use for once.

It did not help.

Basta would never set another fire. 

* * *

It was a week after Basta had been released from Mortola's care (or rather, since she had practically kicked him out of her sanctuary), that Capricorn wanted to talk to him. Basta's stomach clenched as he wondered why his master would want to see him. What if he agreed with Mortola that he was useless now? Would he be punished? Would Capricorn abandon him? Where could he go then?

He had no one else.

Basta took a deep breath and opened the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, I'm handing in my essay tomorrow. That means I then have two weeks of free time that I hope to use for writing^^


	8. Blood and Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's murder time

Capricorn was standing at the window when Basta entered the room. He was dressed in elegant red clothes that would be fit for a rich merchant. Once again, Basta was stunned by how impressive he looked.

Capricorn gave him a small smile.

"I heard you have finally recovered?" he asked, picking a speck of dust from his sleeve before he looked Basta in the eyes, "But you cannot stand the sight of fire anymore? Too afraid?"

Basta only managed to nod.

"What a pity..." Capricorn said and looked out of the window again.

Basta was not sure if he still knew how to breathe. He was scared, scared of the words that would leave Capricorn's mouth and destroy his world.

"Well, Basta, you have to prove you're still of use to me..." Capricorn mused.

"I'll do anything!" Basta answered eagerly. He would give everything he had if only he could stay with Capricorn.

"I want you to cut all ties you still have to your family, if you know what I mean."

Basta cocked his head.

"Your father," Capricorn sighed, "I want him dead."

"But- "

"No. I've done so much for you. You owe me, do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Fine," Capricorn smiled, "I knew I could count on you."

Basta shakily took in air, mentally braced himself.

"I- I can't! I lost... I lost my knife."

Capricorn cocked his head.

"What?"

"I lost it. In... in the fire," Basta whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't worry, Basta," Capricorn said, his voice devoid of any emotion, "You can get a new one."

* * *

It was a rainy day in early autumn when Basta went to Ombra. The sky was grey, even the streets seemed to have lost their usual colours. Basta did not mind – the fine raindrops barely managed to get through his heavy cloak. The town was quiet this afternoon, but Basta still found a passer-by and asked him about his step-father's inn. Basta had wanted to find out if the place would be as crowded as he remembered it, but the man surprised him.

"You want to go there? The place's pretty run-down. There's barely any guests anymore, I'm not sure if it's even open."

"Run-down?" Basta asked.

"Yeah," the stranger confirmed, "The owner doesn't really care for it anymore. It's a pity, used to be one of the nicer adresses. Well, I can't really blame the man. After all that's happened..."

"Oh?" Basta asked, "What happened?"

The man was apparently in a talkative mood, but he lowered his voice when he continued talking.

"Bad thing, really. It's said that one of his boys killed his own brother – pushed him in front of a cart or something. And then he ran away. Some say he went into the woods and starved."

Basta barely surpressed a wince at the accusation. To hear this stranger say it so full of conviction... He took a deep breath, pushed away all feelings and all the times he had doubted himself. Did not think of the nights he had lain in his bed, wide awake, trying to reconstruct the events he could not remember.

"And you believe them?"

"No," the man chuckled, "I've heard that he joined those Firefingers. You know, this Capricorn and his henchmen? Yeah, that sounds more likely to me."

"I don't think so," Basta shrugged as he turned away, "Those woods are deadly. If the boy really fled into the forest, I'd guess a night-mare got him."

"Ha, that would serve him right! Because you know, he didn't only kill his brother, no. His mother couldn't bear the grief he caused. A few months afterwards, she went into the water."

No.

No, that could not be.

"What?" Basta asked through the haze of icy fear, but the man had already gone. Basta stared at the empty spot, then turned around.

He did not care if it were tears or raindrops that he felt on his cheeks as he walked to the inn with a new determination.

The tap room was empty. Dust slowly danced through the air, weightless and graceful, before it settled on chairs and tables. Basta turned around in the abandoned space, took in every detail. It was not how he remembered it at all.

"He!" he finally shouted, "Somebody here?"

Someone stumbled down the staircase that led to the rooms upstairs. A man, slightly hunched, face grey and unwashed. His sunken eyes found Basta, and widened in recognition. He gasped, and it took him a moment to find words.

"Basta! But – I thought... They said you joined those arsonists!"

Basta just smiled.

And Ugo looked at him, and slowly shook his head.

"Where were you?" he asked, voice quiet and tired, "Do you know what you did to your mother? How bad it was for her to lose both sons? Basta... Why?"

Basta felt his blood run cold, colder than it had ever been.

"How dare you – you liar! How dare you blame me for her death?"

"I'm not! But you left! You left and never even thought about us!"

"Oh, I thought about you so much," Basta snarled at his stepfather, "Which is why I left!"

"You never heard Mina cry at night!"

The snarl disfiguring Ugo's face was so uncannily similar to its counterpart on Basta's lips that a by-stander could have thought that the two men were related by blood.

"Actually, I did," Basta answered while his chest was heaving.

Ugo scoffed.

"It only got worse after you left!"

"Well, but you see, I came back," Basta said, his smile all teeth and anger.

Something behind Ugo's eyes changed. He _understood_. He took a few steps backwards, and Basta followed. With a soft thud, Ugo's back hit the wall behind him. And Basta took another step forward.

His stepfather was trapped. And Basta drew his knife. He looked at the shining blade, at his fingers around the hilt, and then his eyes darted back to Ugo's face.

"Remember what you always told me?" he asked, not even trying to hide the anger in his voice, "Use your right hand! The left one is the Devil's hand!"

Basta narrowed his eyes and cocked his head.

"Well, maybe that was the one thing you were right about."

A strangled cry left Ugo's throat. He raised his hands, as if they could protect him against cold steel.

"No," he gasped, "No, no, please!"

"Oh, yes," Basta said, but he felt his hands tremble, his fingers so cold.

Ugo also noticed his hesitation. With the strength of the desperate, he pushed his stepson away, tried to run away from him, but he was too slow. Basta's knife hit him in the thigh, and he fell, blood flowing over his leg, hot and horrible. A few steps, and Basta was at his side again, yanked the knife out of Ugo's flesh, and paused. He stared at the blood on the blade.

Ugo was pressing his hands against his wound, trying to stop the bleeding, gritting his teeth against the pain.

"You're sick!" he shrieked, panicked and anguished, "There's something wrong with you!"

Basta just stared at him with wide eyes.

"You've never been my son!", Ugo continued, "And I hope you burn in hell for this!"

With a scream, Basta almost jumped at him, and brought down his knife.

Blood spattered over the floor, over Basta's face, and hands, and clothes. He watched the floor turn red, watched the life leaving his stepfather's eyes, and felt oddly at peace. Satisfied.

Absentmindedly, Basta wiped away some of the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand, only spreading the sticky red.

He took a last glance at the dead body. It was lying twisted and motionlessly on the bloodcovered dirtfloor. Something about that sight made Basta pause for a while. Now that his fury was thoroughly satisfied, he felt... Empty. Cold. The feeling of triumph was gone all of a sudden. He had killed a man. He was covered in blood, he noticed with disgust. And he realized that he had to go – he had been in this place for too long already. Basta turned around and left the inn forever, hurrying to get to the safety and familar stone walls of Capricorn's fortress.

Rain poured down on him, and tried to wash away the blood. But it did not succeed – there was too much of it.

When Basta finally returned home, he got rid of his bloodied clothes as fast as possible.

He was washing his hands. The water was icy cold. He washed and washed, until his fingers were numb.

Somehow his hands still felt dirty.

He skin still itched when he gave Capricorn his report, and he had to try hard not to rub his arms all the time. But Capricorn gave him a smile and told him that he had grown so much since he first met him, that he had done well, and Basta wanted to believe him.

He smiled as Capricorn told him that he considered him a man now, not a boy anymore, but it was not a real smile, just a movement of his lips.

Basta had trouble sleeping that night. When he finally fell into a shallow slumber, he dreamt of the Wayless Wood. A forest cat was walking next to him, and suddenly, the animal turned its huge head. Eyes glowing red and mouth full of sharp teeth, it smiled.

"I'll get you," it purred, and Basta woke up with a jolt.

Three days later, he was standing guard on the battlements of the sleeping fortress. It was dark, and even darker for Basta who kept his distance from the torches. But he did not need their light to hear the approaching footsteps.

It was Fabio. He looked at Basta, and his gaze was dark and full of envy.

Basta rolled his eyes.

"What do you want?"

Fabio did not answer. He picked up one of the torches and carried it over to where Basta was standing.

"Could you please leave the torch where it was?" Basta asked, putting as much annoyance into his voice as possible so that Fabio would not hear the fear instead.

"I want to be able to see something. Not everyone wants to lurk somewhere in the dark."

He knows, Basta thought, he knows I cannot bear the fire. Of course he does.

"What do you want?" Basta repeated and tried to look at everything but the flame in front of him.

With a smile, Fabio put the torch into a sconce next to him.

"What did you do to deserve this?" he asked, "You are _afraid_ of this small torch. Capricorn should have kicked you out, but no, suddenly he treats you like a grown-up instead and acts like you're his favourite!"

"Jealous?" Basta interupted him.

Fabio growled like an animal, and suddenly lunged at Basta, but in the next moment, he froze again, because Basta had drawn his knife.

Basta held his knife to Fabio's unprotected neck, and the loathing in his eyes was finally mixed with fear. However, something was stopping him from slitting Fabio's throat. Maybe it was simply the memory of bloodstains that did not want to come off again.

With a sneer, Basta took a step back.

"I don't have to kill you," he growled.

"You're just a coward!" Fabio hissed and went for another attack.

They continued fighting. Basta managed to push Fabio away from him, and suddenly, Fabio lost his balance. Basta saw him waving his arms frantically, trying to get back on safe ground, but then he fell from the wall. Basta surpressed a shudder when he heard the body hit the ground.

No one had seen him push Fabio off the wall. Some suspected him, some believed him when he claimed that he had not even seen Fabio that day, most people probably did not really care. 

Officially, it was an accident, Fabio must have slipped and fallen. 

Basta wondered if Capricorn knew that he had discreetly settled his feud with Fabio for good. 

It did not matter. 

Capricorn did not want to talk with Basta about the incident. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to update this fic every Sunday, let's see how long I can stick to this schedule : )


End file.
